


wait and find out

by baehj2915



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, Romance, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 03:17:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12224640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baehj2915/pseuds/baehj2915
Summary: Fifteen years after joining Vox Machina, Pike Trickfoot goes on an adventure. After the Chroma Conclave, after Vecna, after fame, Pike Trickfoot is still just Pike Trickfoot and wants to be herself. Until she doesn't.She decides to take a page out of Scanlan's playbook to be someone else for awhile, not expecting to be found out by him. The exact person she wasn't expecting to see in a place he shouldn't have been was there doing the exact same thing she was. In Pike's experience, that's fate.edit 10/03 now withfanart by the talented acecasinovaedit 10/13 fic now jossed but, like, in the best way possible XD





	wait and find out

**Author's Note:**

> hi god i really wanted to get this done before ep113, but i didn't and i'm kind of glad. i was able to use some notes from the show for this. 
> 
> this is story set in a canon 15 years after vox machina defeats vecna and survives. as of publishing (ep113) this is a potential. we don't know what will happen in the vecna fight, but if they die, i'll add a real fix it/everybody lives au tag. 
> 
> as for warnings: i've got sex in here. pretty descriptive oral sex scene, but mostly i feel i should warn for the fact that i use cunt interchangeably with snatch and pussy, which are considered less charged words. so head's up in case you really feel strongly that cunt shouldn't be used, i use cunt in a sexual, non-demeaning way. 
> 
> i actually intended for this fic to just be a short pwp, but HA HA THAT WAS STUPID. i'm so desperate for pike and scanlan to talk, or kiss, or almost anything, that this came out. i hope you enjoy regardless. 
> 
> edit 10/07 lol so far not totally contradicted by canon as of ep 114 
> 
>  
> 
> ~*~

“We’ve met some other travelers downstairs. C’mon, Lin!” Rosne said, waving excitedly from the doorway of room. 

Pike had to force herself to not look around the room for the _Lin_. She still wasn’t used to going by an alias. 

Rosne was a young halfling from a farm. She probably hadn’t spent much time in inns her whole life, but it had been weeks of pathside and forest camping on this latest leg of the journey. Everyone was eager for a return to indoor sleeping, ale, and the sight of other people. Even though she was sharing the room with two of the others of this little troupe, she was happy to leave them in the pub to drink too much, eat too much, and spend too much in some well needed frivolity--of course, leaving her to enjoy some solitude for a while. 

Obviously, Pike was no stranger to a night of drinking or saying yes to a good time, but she didn’t want that tonight. The sound of reflection and spiritual inquiry had sounded pretty good. Well, maybe not good, but necessary. 

Looking at Rosne’s excited, pleading face though, Pike couldn’t begrudge her at least a pint or two. 

Sure enough, downstairs her fellows were gathered along a long table with about half a dozen faces that were unfamiliar to her. They were all talking and laughing animatedly. It was lively, though. The tavern was full that night; there was a mix of what looked like locals from the lower ring of trade in the town amidst half-kitted adventurers like herself. The tavern floor was a sprawling space, u-shaped around the bar and proprietor's office. There was a lively band on the far end opposite the table where her friends were. Only a few people stood out as suspicious looking in the din--darkly quiet or looking for a fight. 

Traveling these days with a group of adventurers who had only recently set out on their quest, she couldn’t help but notice how Rosne approached the bar with her shoulders completely relaxed, with her weapons off and in her room upstairs. How the rest of her fellows were mingling with strangers, similarly mostly unencumbered by armor or weapons. The more she watched them, the more she felt apart from them. It all made her realize exactly who she wasn’t. 

She wasn’t Lin Fairhand, former sailor and cleric of Sarenrae, hailing from a small island off the coast of Tal’dorei. 

Pike Trickfoot was famous, a member of the legendary Vox Machina, saviors of Emon and Exandria, and champion of Sarenrae. Pike Trickfoot was an _important person_ , and high priests and leaders of cities asked for her opinion. Pike Trickfoot couldn’t announce her name in a pub like this and hope to have a pint in peace, let alone a minute or two of solitude. 

So when the itch to get out in the world again, not to save the world or build temples or consult with nation leaders, but just to travel and be treated like a normal person again, she became Lin Fairhand. Others in Vox Machina used aliases to get around when they didn’t want to be bothered, but as far as she knew, none of them were secretly adventuring again. She was also a cleric of Sarenrae, because, well, Pike couldn’t possibly be anything else. And Pike was not adept at lying. The surname was just the most opposite thing she could think of at the time. Lin was a former sailor because at least Pike had spent some time on the sea. Lin was from a small island north of Emon because Pike at least knew it was there if someone asked about it. 

Still, even in a lively pub during a peaceful rest, she couldn’t help thinking like Pike Trickfoot, fighter, war cleric, and deep down, still kind of a shit. And she knew it meant she’d never really be the same as her new companions, even if she tried. 

She took a deep breath and met with her fellows. The new faces welcomed her too. 

Broden, a paladin of Erathis, poured an ale from a pitcher into a half-pint cup in front of her. “Here she is,” he said. “Lin, our hero of the dawn. Saved our arses more times than this dwarf has hairs on his chin.”

The other people looked at her, trying to inspect what she was. A gnome always seemed to get looks of surprise after being praised for derring-do, but there weren’t so many here from these strangers. Which was nice. They must have been telling the tale of their haunted forest--a cache of undead in a collapsed mine. Pike didn’t try to be too showy about the things she could do, which she knew were pretty overwhelming sometimes to people who’d never seen someone with her experience. But she couldn’t let anyone get hurt either. 

The firestorm of divine light had been a little impressive to her travelling fellows and they didn’t stop talking about it for days. 

Pike smiled and waved at the new people. “Hi.” 

They all smiled back and introduced themselves. There was a cleric with them too--he introduced himself as Norros, in service to Bahamut. He was a little shy, a little frazzled, but immediately asked about some her training in healing. After talking a little about gods and companions who are too eager to run face-first into anything that breathes fire, she got to talking about considering the magic of other disciplines in healing. 

Norros brightened up. “Oh, yes! It’s fascinating how studying other magical disciplines can direct your energy and challenge you. I talk about that with Bertram a lot. It’s not the way I learned magic, and often, I feel so less able to adapt to different approaches, but Bertram has been teaching me some interesting techniques I’d never even heard of before. But I suppose, he is a devotee of The Knowing Mistress. It makes sense he would be a student of many disciplines.” 

Pike looked down the table. “Is Bertram…?” 

“He wandered off earlier to play with the band.” He turned back in his chair to look toward the other side of the tavern. “Oh, speak of the spinagon, here he comes. Bertram!” 

For just a half a second, Pike wanted to reach for her mace, which was sitting in Westruun and not even upstairs, because she thought Bertram might actually be a spiny devil. Instead the small figure that came closer, remaining small and gnome-sized, was in many ways worse than a spiny devil. Her heart slowed down and skipped a beat and maybe jumped back against her ribs to try to hide. Warring notions of _shit it’s him_ and _it can’t possibly be him_ flew around her brain until he stopped shy of the table, eyes locked on her for a second. 

She was feeling a lot in a very sudden moment, which was a thing she had always disliked about Scanlan’s affect on her, but still, she couldn’t help but smile when one broke over his features. It was a smaller smile than most of his, but his eyes sparkled with mischief and joy. 

“Bertram, this is my new friend, Lin. She’s a cleric too. Lin, this is Bertram Ployapedis.” 

Pike had to stifle a laugh at the absurdity. “Bertram Ployapedis? It’s very nice to meet you, Bertram Ployapedis.” 

With one hand behind his back and crossing the other over his heart, a very Ank’harel gesture, Scanlan bowed slightly. He said, thankfully without his Ank’harel accent, “I’m absolutely enchanted to meet a lovely gnome such as yourself, Miss Lin…?” 

“Fairhand.” 

Little lines crinkled around Scanlan’s eyes when he smiled and said with absolute conviction, “Are you related to the Fairhands in Wittebak? I think I remember meeting a Fairhand. A cooper, I think he was.” 

Pike marveled at him for a moment. She knew for a fact he didn’t know any Fairhands because it was a name Pike had invented. And she also knew Wittebak was now an uninhabitable acid swamp where noone but trolls lived.

“Er, no. Not to my knowledge at least.” 

Scanlan _hmm_ ed as though he was consulting a book of internal gnome genealogy. It had been almost two years she’d seen him face to face, and over fifteen years since they met, and he could still pull the most ridiculous acts out of his ass. It was reassuring sometimes and awe-inspiring to watch him bluff his face off with total ease.

It was at other times gratingly irritating, so she supposed it all evened out in the end. 

Some of the other people were trying to catch Scanlan’s attention. Pike tried to get a good look at him while he was being distracted. 

He was dressed totally differently than she was used to. He was wearing a sleek, long Ank’harel style doublet, but it was dark gray and tied by dark metal clasps up to the collar. There were no ruffles or puffed sleeves or glimpses of chest hair to be found. Around his tight collar was a three-eyed totem of Ioun, which she’d never seen before, but wasn’t exactly a surprising addition. He had only one new-looking, slim leather bag hanging across shoulder, rather than the familiar Scanlan of her travels was always laden with many bags, pouches, and purses. There were patterned runes stamped in the leather and Pike would’ve bet her teeth that it was a bag of holding. He had new dark gray boots too, with a dagger holster visible above one of them. Even more shockingly, his hair was cut short on the back and sides. What was left curled up a bit without the weight of its former length. He was very neatly kempt, parted on the side and shining faintly of hair oil, streamlined in whatever identity Bertram Ployapedis was. 

Still, as she examined him, there were bits of Scanlan sticking out. A few rings that Pike recognized. His ear jewelry still in place, if a bit more subdued than his older gold and faceted gems, except for the Earring of Whisper. 

He was dressed to be more nondescript than his usual self, to be sure. But he dressed down in a way a flamboyant man thought was nondescript. The doublet was plain, but also tailored and finely made, glinting with silvered thread. His loose, pale fawn trousers had woven pattern of flowing vines and flowers in just a slightly offset shade. And almost like he couldn’t resist, there was a fine purple silk sash with gold edging tied around his waist. 

After shaking off some interceptions from what had to be Scanlan’s new traveling group and effortlessly getting someone nearby to finagle a new chair that was wedged between Pike and Norros, he turned back to Pike with bright eyes. 

“It’s such a delight to cross paths with another gnome,” he said, smirking evilly. “You’ll have to tell me everything about your travels and your home and your life.” 

“Oh, well, I mean,” Pike paused to take a drink of ale to stall. “I’m not very interesting. And that’s a long, boring story.” 

Scanlan crossed his legs primly and leaned toward her attentively. “Oh I’m sure that’s not true. I love details.” 

“Why don’t you go first, Burt?”

“Please, call me Bertram. My father’s name is Burt.” 

Pike shook her head, but Scanlan just grinned more shit-eatingly and raised an eyebrow as if to wait for her to speak. 

“Um.” Pike bit her lip. Literally nothing was coming to her brain and she was about two seconds from blowing her cover to tell Scanlan to fuck off when he started speaking in Gnomish. 

“I like what you’ve done with your hair.” She looked around for a second, but he added, “None of the unpleasantly-tall in my group speaks Gnomish.” 

Pike giggled, relaxing into her chair. _Unpleasantly-tall_ was a term she hadn't heard in a long time. It was a word city-dwelling gnomes used uncharitably for the tall races. It was a catchall for non-gnomes and just shy of derogatory. It reminded her now that Wilhand was gone, how few gnomes she knew other than in passing. Just Scanlan and JB, really. 

“I can’t believe you cut yours.” 

“I usually change it up every twenty years or so.”

“What are you doing here?” Pike said, still reeling from seeing him. 

Scanlan shook his head woefully. “I saw these cow-faced unfortunates outside of Emon. I was doing some Meat Man business. They got tangled up with some Clasp members who were probably going to kill them and leave their bodies rotting on the side of the road.”

“Did you blow your cover?”

Scanlan didn’t say anything, but his look spoke volumes. She could almost hear the voice in her head saying _Noone bests the Meat Man._

“That was good of you. To save them.” 

Scanlan rolled his eyes. “Maybe. I felt bad. They clearly had no idea what they were getting into. They’re so intent on _doing good_. They’re so stupid. They’re gonna get torn apart.” He turned his head, looking a pair of his companions a little sadly. 

“Are they really that bad?” 

Scanlan shrugged. “No. They tick on time. A little too on time, if you know what I mean.” 

Surface Gnome idioms were usually about mechanics or building in some way. It always fascinated her the differences between the ones Scanlan employed and the Deep Gnome turns of phrase she’d gotten from her family. 

Pike nodded in agreement. “A little pure-in-vein. It makes me feel dingy.” 

“They must be holy for you to say that.” 

Pike rolled her eyes. “What’s your thing with Burt anyways?”

Scanlan did a little double take at her.

“You know, Burt Reynolds, Bertrand Australie, now…” Scanlan shrugged, genuinely unaware maybe of why, instead of coyly evading an answer. “There has to be somewhere it came from. Who is Bertram Ployapedis?” It wasn’t until she broke apart the awkward sounds of his alias in her native tongue that she realized Ployapedis was cobbled synonym for her own name. Heat pricked on her cheeks and her lungs felt a bit big for her chest. “A trick and a foot. You clever shit. You took my name.” 

His knee relaxed against hers. “I thought it made a kind of sense. Do you mind?”

She may have technically spoken with him a month or so ago, but not seeing him in so long, there was a growing roil of feelings in her stomach. The last time they stood next to each other was at Wilhand’s funeral. Pike had went through a few days there in a haze, knowing that Vex and Percy were there to order people around for the arrangements. Then when Scanlan showed up, she’d sort of waited for him to distract her, but it never came. Instead he just sort of stood near her a lot, listening to her and hugging her when she cried. The night of the funeral, Pike didn’t want to sleep and they stayed up talking in the living room, and fell asleep by the fire. 

The next day Scanlan had to leave, and that was the last time they’d spent any time together. Seeing him now, everything inside her felt soft and vulnerable. Part of her wanted to pull away from him, but she was also running all the other times they’d pulled away from each other in her head. 

Pike let her leg press closer, so their legs were touching from knee to shin. “I don’t mind at all.” 

For a second they just looked at each other, but Scanlan seemed to catch himself for some reason. He cleared his throat and looked away. “So what brings you to this waystation under a false name, surrounded by would-be heroes in hand-me-down leathers and overpriced weaponry?” 

“I could ask you the same thing.” 

“That’s fair. I felt a little smothered, I guess. I wanted to see the world again. You know, do my own thing.”

“When did you ever stop doing exactly whatever you wanted?” 

Pike felt a little bite to her voice and regretted it. Because right on the other side of her soft, vulnerable feeling of seeing him, was something more acidic. 

It was unfair of her, in a way, given how much she travelled too. She went from Westruun to Vasselheim to Whitestone to Vasselheim again to Emon in what felt like an endless loop. But for the past few years Scanlan sightings had been few and far between. Of course they communicated by letter and the occasional magical sending, but the most common interaction she’d had with Scanlan for the past five years or so was hearing about how he’d recently passed through somewhere a month or so ago no matter if it was Whitestone castle, the Slayer’s Take, Gilmore’s, the rest of the Emon Council, or Zephra. 

There wasn’t much detail in the process of how or what, but somewhere along the years the mutual distance between Aes Aedon’s casual swindling of criminals as a roundabout means of justice and The Hand of Ord had closed. What Aes Aedon’s organization did now was different and more far-reaching and in a hazy way that Scanlan didn’t elaborate very well on, an arm attached to The Hand. Pike didn’t really know much other than Scanlan he was helping expose bad guys and occasionally called J’Mon Sa Ord his boss. According to Percy’s intelligence gathering in Whitestone, that was true and some branches of The Clasp had had members arrested due to business with potential associates of Vikul the Vicious or Aes Aedon, who was still, as far as Pike knew, two gnomes alternating hats. 

After fifteen years, getting real details from Scanlan about his life instead of a joke and a song was still like pulling teeth-- even if it was better than it used to be when they didn’t even know how much Scanlan kept from them. 

In any event, Scanlan had seemingly been everywhere in the last few years and yet hardly ever around Pike. It brought back flashes of the year he left for what had seemed like _for good_. 

His eye, the one with scar underneath, the one he once tried to dig out of his skull and had since become a more reliable tell of his real feelings, twitched. The rest of his face smiled ruefully. “I suppose that’s true.” 

Pike shook her head. Scanlan hadn’t run away this time. It only felt like it. And in all fairness, she hadn’t made herself very accessible either, right after Wilhand died. They had different lives now, and had for a while. 

Fumbling with her holy symbol, Pike went on. “It’s the same for me, really. There are so many people in Vasselheim and Westruun who treat me like I can fix everything. It’s not that I don’t want to help, but I don’t even really know how that happened. All I’ve ever done is just try to find what Sarenrae wants for me and fight some evil things along the way. Being treated like an expert just because we killed some bad guys--I’m not an expert. In anything. I just… wanted to get away. I wanted to be where no one knew who I was and would just treat me like a regular gnome. Not a…” 

“Savior of Exandria,” Scanlan said with an unimpressed air, waving his fingers over the air of all that term wordlessly encompassed. 

“Yes. It’s hard being a symbol for something for so long. I mean, I like being me... I just didn’t want to for a while.” 

“I get that.” 

Even though she hadn’t spoken with him in the flesh for two years, she couldn’t imagine telling that to anyone else in Vox Machina. She was closer to Grog and Vex, and yet the things she was most scared about or felt guiltiest about she talked to Scanlan about first. Unless, of course, Scanlan was the thing in question. Pike had never totally understood why, only that she could tell him the bad parts of her and it reassured her somehow. It wasn’t as though Vex was less understanding, or Grog was less judgmental. Maybe it was that Scanlan allowed his vision of her to change. It was part of the comfort of Scanlan-- like holding hands in battle or an inappropriate joke to break the tension. 

And he did get it. 

There was a look to his eyes that Pike could read how much of an understatement that was. It wasn’t just limited to the fame and renown of Vox Machina, and the responsibilities that resulted. Scanlan had always slipped into a different identity, a different face, usually as a joke. Pike still couldn’t help wonder sometimes, though, what he thought he needed to get away from and what those aliases did to him. 

Pike smiled. “Let me tell you about Lin Fairhand, then.” 

In Gnomish, it was easy to forget there were other people around them. They ordered more drinks and food and talked about their recent adventures. She told him all about Lin, and how she tried to be less like Pike but had to catch herself from saying too many things all the time. She told him all about her new companions and how sometimes they reminded her of Vox Machina’s floundering first steps. Scanlan talked about this new team he’d stumbled upon. He painted it as though he simply thought they would die without guidance, but she could tell he was enjoying it. Being treated as a respected elder for the most part, saving a few lives, and naturally for Scanlan, entertaining himself with his artifice. Of course, Scanlan’s backstory for Bertram Ployapedis was much more involved--he was from the merchant class of Emon and went to study bardic magic in Ank’harel after the gnome he was set to marry drowned at sea and his preferred instrument was a harp. Pike was pretty sure Scanlan could not play a harp and thought that was a particularly bold character decision. 

Conversation easily slipped into recent events of their real lives, things they hadn’t remembered or thought were important in letters. They talked about Kaylie and Grog who were, respectively, running the business in Ank’harel and giant-hunting in the Cliffkeep mountains. They talked about old adventures and old jokes. 

At some point, somewhere near her, Rosne got up and leaned very close over her shoulder. 

“We’re going back up to the room. Should we, um, not bother waiting for you?” 

Pike looked up and around. All of her and Scanlan’s fellows were gone except for two. Most of the people in the tavern had thinned out to a handful scattered here and there in various states of drunkenness. The windows not boarded were pitch black outside. She remembered some of her friends interrupting them to say good night but she genuinely hadn’t realized hours had passed while she had been only talking to Scanlan. 

Pike and Rosne’s other current roommate Cylla was stood behind Scanlan’s back with a bright-eyed, giggly look on her face. It was almost a mirror image of a younger Keyleth.

Scanlan smirked, and then winked at Rosne. “I must apologize for monopolizing all of your lovely cleric’s time away from you. It must be nearly midnight. An awfully inappropriate time to spend alone with a lady.”

Pike covered her mouth for a second. “Looks like we’ve already spent a little night together.” 

Rosne’s eyes went a little big, but she shook her head vehemently. “No, no. It’s cool. You two obviously hit it off. Sometimes you meet someone and it’s,” she paused to make an explosion noise, “you know, sparks.” 

It took a second for Pike to realize Rosne was trying to wingman her with Scanlan, a situation that was probably about six layers deep in irony. Cylla was eating her hands in the background. Rosne looked back at Pike to check, making some kind of expression of curious intent. 

Pike bit back a giggle and looked provocatively at Scanlan, putting a hand on his thigh. “Would it be wrong of my friends to lock the door of our room for the night?”

Scanlan leaned forward a little and laid into the upper class voice he used for Bertram. “Only if you’re on the other side.” 

In a squeaky voice, Rosne said, “Okaygoodnighthavefun,” and scurried over to Cylla and they ran upstairs together, unable to hold back their high-pitched giggling until after they left earshot. 

Once they were gone, Pike and Scanlan looked at each other and burst into laughter. When she pulled herself up a little, Pike looked at his big smile and dark and deep brown eyes and was overcome with a flood of feelings. She was so happy, in a mood so light and fun she hadn’t realized she’d been down. She was also angry. She’d set out on a quest with strangers, disguised as someone else, because she was convinced she’d needed to get away from herself. But talking with Scanlan and admitting her problem made her eyes clear or something. Suddenly it was like she was her normal self again and everything would be alright and everything would be better _because_ someone still recognized her. And she was angry that Scanlan hadn’t been around in so long, that she missed him so badly. She was angry she’d done this before, the year after he died and left to be apart from them. She was angry that he’d fallen in love with her right away, when she hadn’t been ready and neither had he, when it really came down to it, and how that had forced them apart. She was angry that the whole history of their relationship was never really being in the same place at the same time, physically or otherwise. 

So she punched him. 

A light jab to the shoulder was all she could muster because despite everything, she was too happy to let her anger win again. Over their talk something familiar had settled back into her chest that made her feel grounded and a little too warm. 

“I missed you,” she said, because she couldn’t not say it anymore. 

“I missed you too, Pikey-pants.” 

Unable to stop the wetness of tears from poking at her eyes, she just threw her arms around him and squeezed. “Why did you stay away from me for so long?” 

She could not tell if it was only the past few years she was talking about, or every time in the past he’d ran away from her and every time she’d pushed him away. 

He didn’t say anything right away, but her face was right next to his and she could hear the intake of breath. She could feel his heartbeat. He moved his hands slowly over her back, returning the hug. He said, in his softest voice, “I’m sorry.” 

When they let go, Scanlan looked more tired. He took a long moment, Pike was sure, thinking about words. They usually came to him so fast it was always noticeable when he planned them. “I’m sorry I go away when I don’t know what to do with myself. I did… I tried to be better, with letters, with short visits. Sometimes it’s just that I... I think of you guys as the saviors of Exandria, too. I know I don’t really belong.” 

“That’s not true,” Pike snapped. “If you didn’t belong I wouldn’t want you around. If you didn’t belong you wouldn’t have been with us for so long. We all belong together. I mean… Scanlan! This is the same thing as last time.” 

He smiled sadly. “Look, I love you. You, all of Vox Machina--you’re my family. I _know_ that. But I don’t know what to do with that sometimes. Even after all these years, it scares me. Even after as much as I’ve been through with Kaylie, as much as I’ve tried to be a better father, I still don’t know how. It’s the same with you guys. And it’s worst of all with you.” 

“With me?” 

“Of course it is. I’ve fucked up everything with you more times than I can remember.” 

“I don’t think of it like that.” 

Scanlan snorted a laugh. 

“I don’t! I think of it more like we’re always just missing each other. Like when I’m going right, you’re going left. And, and it means we’re not saying the right things to each other, or not hearing the right things. We’re never in the same place at the same time.” Pike reached out and took his hand. “I think fate brought us here to the same place, because we were feeling the same way. Not like ourselves, or too much like ourselves, and now we’re here to remind each other that trying to be someone else doesn’t fix it.” 

Maybe mirroring her, Scanan touched his Ioun symbol with his free hand and brushed over it with his thumb. “You know last night I had a dream about meeting the dawn. I woke up in it and felt healed. Or at least, peaceful.” 

“What does that mean?” 

He squeezed her hand. “It means I’ve always had to learn things the long way around, Pikey. And I think you’re probably right. Thank you.” 

“I mean it, Scanlan. I love you. Don’t make me miss you again.”

“I love you too. And I’ll try. I promise.” 

He nodded and took a deep breath, looking around the almost empty tavern. “Well, that was very emotional and tiring.” 

There was a look he had when his guard was completely down--which was almost never-- that she always looked for. A kind of sadness in his eyes that Pike was convinced he didn’t even know was there, and a worried line to his mouth. After they’d defeated Vecna, after the adrenalin of that battle started to subside that night, after the celebrating and drinking, she’d found him alone with that look. That hadn’t been the first time she’d seen that look, but it had been the first time she understood it. 

It was contrary, a bit like him. Scanlan could stroll up to a fiend or enemy ten times his size with swaggering confidence, real or fake, mostly fake, but always cracked a bit afterwards. And after Vecna, she thought she understood what it was. Worry. A particularly Scanlan kind of worry where surviving scared him more than the possibility of dying, the future would continue and he’d have to be there to try to keep living again. 

Like he’d done with her years later after Wilhand passed, she stayed with him that night in a music room in the mansion. She held his hand until he wanted to talk again, and they fell asleep on sitting cushions while spectral servants played gentle music. 

“Let’s go to bed,” she said, standing up with Scanlan’s hand and pulling him up. 

He followed her dutifully up the stairs, and then led her into the small, one bed room he’d rented. Her heart was beating a little faster than usual, so she tried to cover it up. “Did you use your charm to get away with getting yourself a single room with party funds?” 

Scanlan let go of her hand, and started rummaging through a small bag at his side. “I use my own funds. I’m too old to share a room with someone I’m not getting to know carnally.” 

Pike sat down on the bed and wondered if she should let her braids down, or if her hair would just look stupid if she did. “Well, obviously you’re old,” she said, because Vex would be disappointed in her if she didn’t say it. “But you’re not _too_ old. You’re a gnome.” 

She waited for a second while Scanlan looked for whatever it was he was looking for, pulled out a handful of trinkets, let them clatter on the floor, and then turned around and sat down on the ground. He started humming under his breath. Pike waited for a moment, and then another moment, hoping some kind of joke was happening. She wondered if she was… she didn’t know. She didn’t do things like this often. Certainly she didn’t understand the nature of a first night with someone she actually had years of history with. 

“Um, Scanlan? What are you doing?” 

He stayed stock still in his meditative position and almost whispered out of the side of his mouth, “Conjuring the mansion.” 

She had sort of forgotten about that. It had been several years since she’d stayed in it. But it would be a lot nicer than a creaky tavern inn. “Oh. Okay.” 

When the minute had passed, a lightly purple glowing door formed in the middle of the room. She walked inside the mansion, a sight deeply familiar feeling washed over her. In some ways the mansion felt more homey than Westruun. She grew up in Westruun, but changed so much while she was away that Scanlan’s pocket plane had seen more of the person she felt like now. 

Though the trek through the foyer, past the marble staircase and the portrait of Vox Machina by Garmelie, down the hallway towards the master bedroom and her traditional bedroom was a little more apprehensive than usual, she felt right inside the mansion. He pointed out some painting and statues along the way that were particularly failed reproductions of famous art made by the Meat Man’s team of forgers that he’d liked and kept. There was a statuette on a plinth right between the doors of Scanlan’s and Pike’s rooms. It was supposed to be Sarenrae--Pike could tell by the wings, but the rest of it was a bit melty and her expression of peace was more tortured. 

Pike leveled A Look at Scanlan. “Don’t you think that’s a little blasphemous? Right here?” 

“Hey, I told her about this one. She didn’t say anything, but I think she’d approve. She’s got a sense of humor.” 

“I think you’re mixing your goddesses again. Ioun has a sense of humor definitely. Sarenrae’s great, obviously, but the times we’ve spoken haven’t been filled with a lot of laughs.” 

Scanlan waved off her words. “Is not humor the soul of love?” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard that one before.”

“That’s because I just made it up now.”

Pike leaned her back against the nearby door, watching Scanlan look pleased with himself, felt that familiar verbless, dizzying feeling that she could only describe as a Scanlan feeling. Always a hard feeling to act on when she thought about acting on it at all. It waned and waxed. If she wanted to have him, it was confusing to imagine how it would work. Any romantic connection between them had been complicated and thwarted several times over. Historically, whenever she wanted to consider that Scanlan feeling-- wanting to grab ahold of his stupidly charming face and kiss it, wanting to see first hand what was underneath the layers of make-believe and distraction--he was walking away from her or walking away from himself. 

Now, they’d had their first really good, really honest talk in a long time. 

Now, she was staring at him while she could feel him staring back at her. It felt like a good time. It felt like the right time. And the muddled fondness and hesitant attraction that came and went from her life was there, and pressing, stretching, itching inside her skin. It was, like never before, searching for a definite direction. 

She tried to think of something flirty and cute to say, but that took longer than expected. Instead she cleared her throat over a garbled sound and coughed, “Sorry.” 

Scanlan sighed, but smiled. “Well, the servants can get you anything you want. Your room’s just how you like it, as always. I think I better… get some sleep. Good night.” 

“Uhhh… night?” She said in disbelief as Scanlan backed up to the door of his room and slid inside with a sheepish wave, shutting the door behind him. She looked around the hallway for, basically, any clue what was going on. 

Part of her, as he’d been winding down for departure had wanted to say _wait_ but she was also frozen with embarrassment. She was flashing through tonight’s proceedings, remembering his smiles, the touches under the table, and suddenly realized he’d been in character, in front of Rosne and Cylla, when he’d said she should spend the night with him. 

Pike felt a bit like she’d been sucked undertow. 

On muscle memory, she opened the door to her room and stepped inside. It shimmered with amber light and silvery metalwork along the bed frame and walls. The shrine to Sarenrae, with a pristine figure of the Everlight, the same one there’d been from the very first night she spent in the mansion, glowed from the offering candles surrounding it. The canopy bed looked soft and freshly made and pretty repellant at the moment. Something about lying in bed and mulling over what had happened sounded like an even worse punishment.

All she could do was pace. But she caught her reflection in the mirror and felt instantly very stupid. 

She had felt what she felt and wasn’t wrong about it. And felt like saying to herself what she’d said to Scanlan earlier, because really, why has she stayed away for so long?

Pike took a deep breath and walked briskly back to Scanlan’s door, pounding on it until he opened it back up with a slightly alarmed look on his face. “Yes? What happened?” 

It looked like he only got as far into his undressing as unbuttoning his doublet. She felt slightly reassured by the sight of his chest hair and didn’t know if that said more about him or her. 

“What about we’re in the same place at the same time don’t you understand?”

“Ummmm, what?” 

“Scanlan, you said you agreed fate brought us here together for a reason.” 

“Yes. We talked and we’re family and family needs to… rely on each other more. I got the gist. And I swear I’ll actually be able to apply that one day, but--” 

Pike felt that if she tried to talk this out any further, it would just spiral out of hand like it always did. Direct action was always better. So she kissed him. 

Except he was still talking so their teeth hit a little bit. Once he realized what was happening he stood stock still under her hands. When he didn’t kiss back Pike leaned back a little, still holding on to the now much smaller part of her that felt like this was not a mistake. 

“Um, Pikey,” Scanlan said quietly, eyeing her warily. “What’re you doing?”

“Kissing… you?” She felt stupid even as she said it. It was a particularly low point if she was so bad at it that _Scanlan_ couldn’t tell what she was trying to accomplish.

“I should have been more clear.” He added in his very squeaky, fear voice, “We are-- I stopped-- Whyyy?”

“Because? Because there’s been a sexual, sort of, situation going on between us for a long time. Do you disagree?” 

“Well, no.” 

“And there’s also a love situation. Obviously, we love each other. I love you. But it’s always been hard for me to know if I’m _in love_ with you, or anyone. Sometimes I definitely have not been, but it’s also been close. And I don’t know for sure. Maybe I won’t know for a while, but I..” Pike took a deep breath, closing her eyes. “I know no one else who knows when to hold my hand to pull of a really badass tandem battle move and when to hold my hand just to hold hands. So that’s because. And because we’re in the same place at the same time maybe for the first time in fifteen years. Because I wanted to.” 

When she looked at him again there was a pained expression in his eyes. At times when she was mad at him or when he’d been more interested in flirting with her than in who she was, his eyes were always a trouble spot. He had pretty dark brown eyes that always looked soulful, even if he was spinning a yarn of utter bullshit. So if his eyes were convincing when he was lying, they were absolutely killer when he was being honest. 

“Pike, I can’t… I can’t walk away from that.” His voice was strangled. For someone who made his living, and sometimes other people’s living, on his voice, he was struggling to even speak. “If we… This _is_ a love situation. I think it’s abundantly clear at this point, I don’t handle real… love situations very well. I don’t know if I could,” he laughed a little angrily and spat out, “recover. When you decide I’m not…” He looked away searching for a word, but he never finished it. 

Pike took his hand gently, and held it over her chest, covering it with hers. “Hey,” she said as softly as she could, “don’t be an idiot.” 

All he responded with was an abrupt, quiet choking sound. 

“If I wanted to be done with you, I would’ve stopped talking to you a long time ago. Scanlan, I don’t ever want to be done with you. I promise. I want to help you handle it. I want you to rely on me to help you handle it. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I said everything I said before. You dummy.” 

He laughed distractedly, looking at his hand trapped under hers. His fingers twitched on her skin. “I am kinda dumb, I guess.” 

“It’s a good thing you’re pretty.” 

With a raised eyebrow and some snarky comeback poised on his lips, Pike kissed him again. This time he did kiss back. It was soft little kisses at first, where she adjusted to the feel of his mouth and his breathing mixing with hers and where to put her nose when they moved. Then his other hand moved up and down her back and he started kissing _more_. And she slid her hand over his shoulder to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, close enough so they couldn’t move any closer. 

They broke apart, only an inch or two, and Pike sighed. She’d been holding it in for a very, very long time. 

“That was nice,” she said. 

Scanlan nodded, his forehead leaning against hers for a second. It wasn’t a big thing, but she found instantly that she liked it. An equal height advantage she’d never thought of before. 

“I wasn’t serious when I called you a dummy. I don’t think you’re dumb.” 

He looked at her with a strange smile and laughed. “Okay. Do you… wanna keep doing the nice stuff? It’s okay if you don’t! I’m genuinely happy with anything. We could just, like, sleep near each other if you want. We’ve done that. People do that, right?” 

“Scanlan.” 

“Too fast?” 

“Scanlan, we’ve been running past each other for years. Fast bypassed us about fourteen years ago. I don’t want to wait anymore.” 

“I know,” he said a little more emphatically than Pike felt was necessary. “I just don’t want to fuck this up.” 

“I don’t either. Which is why I think we gotta just… jump right in. We’ve gotta just, just bone down.” 

“Bone down?” 

“I say weird things when I’m nervous.” 

“I know.” Scanlan nodded happily, however and started walking back into his bedroom with Pike. “It would be a shame to waste this chance encounter. I’m leaving in the morning. You’re leaving in the morning. Who knows how long it would be until our next night together?” 

Pike threw the door shut behind them, tearing her boots off as soon as it clicked. “We’ve definitely got to fuck tonight then. No other choice.” 

Scanlan stepped back from her a little bit and held his hands out. “Hold one tiny second. Compromise. We will definitely resolve the sexual situation, by Sarenrae.”

“Don’t say ‘by Sarenrae.’”

“We will fuck _for_ Sarenrae, then. But let me, please, by your god and mine, let me make this a little more romantic. I’ve been thinking about this for fifteen years. I can’t give you as big a romantic gesture as you deserve. I know you probably wouldn’t want, say, a picnic ride on top of an elephant in the moonlight, serenaded by a four piece string ensemble, but you deserve it. Still, let me make this a teeny bit more romantic.” 

“How long will it take?” That elephant ride didn’t sound half bad, but she didn’t want to say anything. She felt it was probably within his magical capabilities to try and conjure that on the fly. 

Scanlan counted silently on his fingers. “Half a minute. Less than. A quarter of a minute.” 

“Okay, but start with getting rid of the spectral servant. I don’t want it to watch.” 

Scanlan absentmindedly snapped his fingers at the lone ghostly figure that had been holding a tray of fruit and a pitcher of water by Scanlan’s bed. Knowing he hadn’t expected her at all made it even more ridiculous, but if Pike were put off by Scanlan’s eccentricities she would have given him the slip a long time ago. The spectral servant put down its tray and quietly wafted through the mansion wall. 

“I’m gonna turn around and take off my clothes while you… get ready.” 

“Wait no!” He yelled and then paused. He held his hands together as if in prayer and looked at her pleadingly. “May I? Please? In a minute?” 

Pike faked a put upon sigh, biting her lip to keep from smiling at how badly Scanlan wanted to take off her clothes. “Okay, fine.”

“Alright, just close your eyes.” 

She thought it was a bit silly; Pike was a simple lady who didn’t need any theater in her romance. But Scanlan definitely did. So Pike obligingly covered her eyes with her hands and tried to ignore the conspicuous sounds of rustling clothes and the feel of magical energies rupturing the air around her to alter reality. There was a flash of light bright enough that it peeked through her fingers a bit, but then everything stopped. Scanlan heaved a breath and said, “Okay, open your eyes.” 

When she opened them, she decided she was okay with a little theater. 

The room had turned from white walls decorated with a surprising amount of plants, bookshelves, paintings of nudes, and large mirrored panels surrounding a large, round bed with silken purple sheets to something both darker and softer. There was dark wooden panels below a dark violet patterned wallpaper of viny branches and berries instead of mirrors. All the plants had been changed into candles, collected in spheres and bowls on every shelf and table. The overhead chandelier, too, had changed from clear globes to look like candles suspended from tree roots. The very large bed was in a dark wooden four posted frame, and fitted with patterned curtains like the wallpaper, one side slid open to reveal dark pillows and sheets inside. 

Scanlan, now wearing only an Ank’harel style robe that had been nowhere in sight before, stood to the side expectantly. Soft blue flower petals slowly drifted from some immaterial source in the sky, like her room had years ago. One landed on Scanlan’s hair as he looked at her with a bit of nervous mania glinting in his eyes. 

“Do you like it?” 

“It’s gorgeous, Scanlan,” she said a bit breathlessly. 

“But this is more comfortable for you, right? It’s pretty, but you could sleep here?” 

It was very different from her other room, but still she could see how he was trying to cater to her sense of style-- a much fancier sense of her style than it actually was, but still. And maybe even a sense of his style in a way, mixed with hers. 

“I could definitely sleep here.”

“Too much romance?” 

Just because a few more landed in his hair, she said, “The petals are alright for now. I didn’t expect you to be able to resist, but everything else I think this is a good amount of romance.” 

“Is it too dark maybe--?”

Pike stepped over to him and grabbed the collar of his robes. “You’re talking too much.” 

“I talk too much when I’m nervous.” He licked his lips, looking between her eyes and her hands and her mouth. 

“I know,” she said, pulling him into a kiss again. 

This time, with a little more familiarity, it went even easier. They were faster to melt into each other, faster to grab onto each other, faster to let their hands travel to intimate places. And they fumbled a little, moving around each other with eager hands. But where in her mind she imagined feeling awkward, in practice it felt like nothing. 

“Can I take off your clothes?” Scanlan said, letting his fingers trace the outside of her not-very-sexy shirt collar and circling the top closed button of her shirt. 

“You’ve seen me naked before,” she teased, because after over a decade of it, she couldn’t really stop. 

“This is different.” 

She nodded silently, because it was. 

Scanlan unbuttoned her shirt, pulled the tails of it out of her trousers, moved her out of the sleeves, and gently pulled off her undershirt in a very concentrated way, like he was studying every part of her that was revealed. She had, maybe, once or twice seen him as diligent with a very important spell or tome. Over the years she’d wondered how he was like with other bedpartners and she wondered now if he was treating her any differently, or if all of those guys and gals got the same solemn, studious treatment. She doubted it; she hoped not. She had thought he might be glued to her during this, but he touched her so little that every little trace of an instrument-calloused fingertip over a scar or freckle caused her to shudder. 

Only when her tits were totally exposed did he kiss her again, trailing down from her lips to her neck, her chest, the round fat side of her breast, her nipples, and her belly. He didn’t linger on or avoid any scars, but touched her like he could see the whole picture of her. He was on his knees by the time he got to her belly, bracketing her feet with his legs and circling her thighs before unbuttoning her trousers. After he peeled them off, taking a lot of opportunities to touch and caress her thighs, he stopped when she was only in her drawers. 

His hands hovered over the ties above her hips, like he was afraid to touch or trying to find out if her underdrawers were actually trapped. His pause was nearly long enough that she was going to ask if something was wrong, but he traced his fingers over her hips and the tops of her thighs, and sort of twirled his fingers around a few pubic hairs that peaked around the edge of her drawers. 

Pike shivered a bit from the touch. He was being so soft, it tickled. And she was beginning to feel a bit too studied. 

“I’m not a statue,” she said. 

He smoothed his hands over her hips and belly, and shook his head. “This is a lot better.” Then he looked up with a smirk. “I’ve animated statues too, but still, a lot better.” 

At that, she did pull his hair and he still moaned over it. “I’m almost done.” 

Pike had the suspicion that he didn’t mean undressing her. His expression was about as reverent as he’d ever seen. She didn’t think she was much to worship, just muscle and fat covered in too many scars, but Scanlan looked riveted. 

“Those aren’t knotted, by the way,” she said, tilting a hip toward him. “My drawers. Easily untied.” 

He grinned up at her, and boy was that an angle she could appreciate. “No sailor’s knots?” His fingers crawled back up her thighs, and pulled one of the ties loose. “Not the infamous swirly-whirly.” 

Finally, he untied the other side, bracing a hand on the inside of her thigh and squeezing. “Spread your legs, please.” 

As soon as the cloth was thrown to the ground, he moved up close, nuzzling into the crook of her leg, smelling her cunt. His hands slipped around to hold the back of her thighs. There was a bit of butterflies in her stomach. She really liked the visual, but she didn’t think it could be a very great deal for him. She was just relieved she’d got to take a bath after they got to the inn. Scanlan seemed to like it though, if the hum from his throat and his tightening grip on her thighs was anything to go by. 

One hand let go of her thigh and moved to the mound of her pussy. He caressed her almost hesitantly, and then looked up at her face. “I really wanna… Can I…” He bit his lip and fingertips gripped more firmly around her thigh as he groaned wordlessly. 

Pike suddenly felt hot. “Is Scanlan ‘The Meat Man’ Shorthalt tongue tied about sex right now?” 

Scanlan rolled his forehead against her hip and groaned into her skin. “Not yet, but I want to be.”

“What was that?” 

He looked back up at her face pleadingly. “I want you to eat you out. I just…” He looked back down longingly at her snatch. His thumb gently traced the lips of her pussy, parting them in a slow stroke. “I want to eat your pussy every day for the rest of my life. I want you to sit on my face. I want to breathe in your cunt. I want to suffocate in your skin. I’ve thought about it for so long, I want… fucking everything. But right now, I really, really, really want to eat you out and I’m hoping that’s alright with you.” 

Pike could feel her own pulse pounding in her neck. She put her hand on his head, ruffling her fingers through his hair, and nodded emphatically. “Yeah, yeah. Yeah. I think that’s… yeah.” 

She immediately imagined pulling him up, by the hair if necessary, to the bed, but the amount of _really_ s he’d used had been a little understatement. He shifted closer, putting her leg over his shoulder as he leaned in. She steadied herself by putting both hands on his head, hooking around his shoulder and unable to stop from thrusting her snatch right in his face. 

He licked carefully at the tip of her pussy lips at first, gently laving the button of nerves. It was like kissing earlier, slow and soft and then deeper and _more_. Kneeling in front of her, he had one hand on her hip and one grasping her ass and the crease of her thigh. He inclined his head, licking lower and taking a teasing tongue around and in her cunt, drawing out wetness. She tried not to pull his hair, but she couldn’t stop from wrapping her fingers around it and scraping her nails against his scalp the more he licked her open. She pulled his head tighter to her and he moaned into her. 

Slowly, he kissed his way back to her clit and his fingers snaked inside her. He fucked her with his fingers, curling them toward that hard to reach spot inside her that softened every muscle in her body, while he sucked and laved and kissed her clitoris. She locked her knee around him, trying to bring him closer, even though it couldn’t be done. She rolled her hips, desperate to feel more, and also too aware she was standing over him and her leg was starting to wobble. 

On an enthusiastic pull of his lips and two fingers pressing inside her, she cried out and her knee buckled and they both came crashing to the floor. 

Pike caught herself with her hands and just stopped herself totally smothering Scanlan against the floor with her pussy. She pulled back quickly, but with nowhere really to go, but to sit on his chest. 

“Shit, are you okay?” 

He laughed a little breathily underneath her, and licked his lips. His mouth and chin and upper lip was smeared with her come. “Hit my head a little, but I’m fine.” He still reached out for her hips, touching whatever skin he could. “That’s how I want to die by the way. I think any other way is probably a waste of my time.” 

“C’mon, let’s get on the bed.” 

“You didn’t arrive yet. I work to completion.” 

Pike snorted. “I didn’t say you were done.” Even though it was dark she swore she could see his pupils dilate more at that. “Besides, it’s probably bad for your neck like that. And my knee’s tired.” 

She leaned back and crawled off him to stand. She held out a hand, and he took a moment to stay and stare up at her from the floor. 

“I’m getting the impression that this angle does a lot for you,” she said, now getting a whole look at his body again and seeing his cock at attention. “Do you like it when women stand over you?” 

He took her hand, but mostly pulled himself up to standing. “Only you.” 

They retreated to the bed with dark cozy curtains, where Scanlan returned the second time to dining on her like he was a starving man-- to completion. When she was finished, with shuddering calmness flowing through her veins and melting muscles, she pulled Scanlan back up to her and kissed his face while he was still trying to wipe her wetness off. It was maybe the most conceited thing she ever thought, but she liked the idea of the taste of her in his mouth. 

Together they took care of Scanlan’s prick--which was neither as comically huge or embarrassingly small as he’d always said it was. Scanlan said it wasn’t necessary, that they could go slow, that she didn’t need to touch him--it wasn’t his tone, but it was what he _said_ \--and Pike ignored him because he failed to realize she wanted to touch him. And after he came--mostly on Pike’s thighs--and cleaned up and kissed a little more, they cuddled under a voluminous blanket in Scanlan’s far-too-large-for-gnomish-size bed. 

It was not what she imagined. 

Not what she imagined of her first time with Scanlan, or what she imagined of a first night with anyone after a big, emotional confession. 

She used to imagine, when she used to imagine this sort of thing, flawless but nondescript lovemaking while gazing into each other’s eyes, not nearly falling on someone’s head while they were sucking on your clit. She used to imagine losing track of the rest of the world after dramatic battles where they realized the importance of being alive. She and Scanlan had been through plenty of battles, and even when Scanlan had loved her in a shameless and superficial way, even when they were mad at each other, they’d always been friends enough to fight or pick up the pieces together. In the real world, she was practical enough to know that love and being alive doesn’t make you want to forget the world, it makes you aware of the world. Scanlan knew that too--knowing that was what scared him so much. 

Scanlan had been wrong in thinking she didn’t like romance, but it had always been more of the perfect, untouchable, serious kind of romance she had no familiarity with or ever really thought would happen. Maybe once she thought so, but it didn’t happen, and holding out for it had been painful. She thought romance swept up and took over parts of your body, took over your reason.

This wasn’t like that at all, but she thought it might be better. 

This was laughing and teasing. This was not being so nervous of the new she couldn't have fun. This was knowing someone too long and too well to think they were perfect or should be. This was not trying to be impressive, but trying to be herself. 

This was sleeping with Scanlan and Pike wrapped around each other, in a room he’d made to make her comfortable. 

This was fate bringing them to the same place at the same time. 

In the morning, they didn’t need the sun or a knock on the door to wake up early. They were both seasoned travelers and had to leave with their fellows later in the day. 

Scanlan was, astonishingly, almost shy in the morning and not trying to overcompensate for it. He wiped his hand over his mouth and Pike’s shoulder where he’d drooled a little, but it wasn’t the first time he’d passed out and drooled on her, or vice versa, so she didn’t care. His hair was very fluffy and tall. 

“Not very used to sleepovers anymore, sorry,” he said, his eyes darting away from Pike’s. 

Because when she waited, she tended to wait for too long, she went for it. “Are you worried we made a mistake?” 

Scanlan took a deep breath. “I’m worried you’ll realize you made a mistake. I’m always worried about that.” 

Still sitting in bed, she reached over to hold his face in her hand. “I don’t think we made a mistake.” 

He nodded. “I know, it’s just… we _don’t_ know when we’re going to see each other again. We’ve got these,” he waved his fingers over his shoulder, she guessed, in the general direction of the tavern, “stupid kids to look after now.” 

“Oh, Scanlan, we’re in Vox Machina. When didn’t we ever have stupid kids to look after?” 

He paused for a moment in disbelief before cracking into laughter. For someone who mostly made jokes, always associated with humor, Scanlan didn’t laugh genuinely from other people’s jokes all that much, so it filled her with a kind of greedy pride. 

“We did have to stop them from doing a lot of stupid shit. And yet, we still all did _so much_ stupid shit.” 

“Well, we’re not actually all that good at being responsible. We were just the most responsible ones.” 

Scanlan grimaced. “How did we get to be the responsible ones? Just because we’re older. And also better at magic and healing spells and risk assessment. And more practical and smarter. Okay, now that I’m saying it all out loud, I kind of understand it. We’re still not _that_ responsible.” 

Pike hummed and pulled lightly at Scanlan’s chest hair, not totally in agreement with him, but more interested in other things. “Speaking of how practical and smart we are, I have an idea on how to make sure we know this wasn’t a mistake.” 

“Hmm?” 

“I have two ideas. One, let’s set a date to meet again soon. Either in Westruun, or Whitestone.” 

Scanlan nodded. “That’s a good idea. Number two?” 

“Let’s have sex again.” 

A slow smile crept over his face. “Do you mean ever? Or right now?” 

Pike just grinned and pushed him back onto the bed. This time, no one sustained any falling injuries, but it was still pretty good. It was hard to resist the urge to fall back into bed, but she didn’t want anyone to worry about her and start looking for her. 

They got dressed together and ate together in the mansion--now on its fourth dietary overhaul, which seemed to revolve around fruit and nuts mostly this time. Scanlan let go of the mansion when they had all their things and they were put back in Scanlan’s untouched rented tavern room. And they walked back out in the world together, to be Lin Fairhand and Bertram Ployapedis again, at least for a little while. 

When they went downstairs, they had to drift away to their separate groups. Scanlan’s people were eager to get going, while Pike’s were eager to buy some breakfast and talk about the night she spent with a stranger. But she couldn’t help watching Scanlan. When they opened the door to leave, the sun flooded in and nearly blinded Pike for a second. 

Scanlan turned back for a moment behind his group and halted in the doorway. He dug around in his pack for a while, and then held up a little doll. His Pike doll. 

Pike almost panicked for a moment. She suddenly had trouble getting into her bag, but she did and then pulled out her Scanlan doll. 

For a moment they just looked at each other. Then Scanlan called out in Gnomish, “I still keep it close to my loins!” 

The door closed behind him, as Pike laughed and clutched the doll to her. Almost fifteen years of travel and wear had chipped some of the paint and worn down some edges, but she still brought it with her everywhere. She felt already that she was beginning to miss Scanlan again, but ,as she looked out through the window, as the figures walked away into the sunrise, she knew that they always had bits of each other with them. Fifteen years worth of battles and stories and habits and jokes and hurts and loves were bound up in each other. 

And that was a good start.

 

 

~*~*~*~*~ The Next Winter’s Crest in Whitestone ~*~*~*~*~ 

 

Vex’ahlia sat down at the more modest family dining table, where the family ate for breakfasts and informal meals. Trinket was getting a bit old now, and sat down by the fire as soon as the morning check in the forest was over. Cassandra smiled at her as she walked past. She kissed the children on their foreheads, and stopped by Percy to push down his book for a kiss on the lips, while the kids groaned. 

“Good morning, dear,” he said, smiling at her before shortly returning to his book. 

She turned the corner of the table to take a chair next to Tary. “Good morning, Goldie.” 

Tary put down his knife and fork. “Wonderful morning, L.E.G. How was your constitutional through the forest?” 

“It was charming. Thank you for asking,” she said, looking pointedly at Percy, who shrugged over the top of his book. 

“I see you’re our only polite guest, Tary. Where the hell is everyone? It feels very rude. We wait for everyone to be all in one place once a year and they’re still scattered. Where are our guests, Percy.” 

Again, Percy shrugged behind his book. “Keyleth and Vax are not arrived yet. Grog… tavern, I’m guessing.” 

Tavern was code for brothel around the children. Also, being Grog, it could be just a tavern as well. “Did you tell him to be back in time for the festival?” 

“I don’t think he’d miss it.” 

Vex shared a look of disapproval with Tary. “What about Pike and Scanlan?” Vex turned to her children. “Have you seen Auntie Pike or Uncle Scanlan this morning?” 

Percy’s hand twitched around the book he was holding. He had not been much of a fan of Vex’s insistence on _Uncle_ Scanlan, and even after eight years he was still getting used to it. But unsurprisingly, to Vex, at least, Scanlan was a favorite with her eight year old and her six year old. He gave told stories well, played actual magic tricks on them, wasn’t shy of scatalogical humor or dirty words, and lavished them with presents out of guilt when he stayed away too long. He was a child’s dream uncle. 

But it was Auntie Pike Vex wanted to speak with. 

Vesper and Elaina shook her heads. Of course, neither Percy nor Tary had seen them either. 

Pike had gotten in late last night with Grog, and with the hustle and bustle of preparing for Winter’s Crest, managing her staff, and making sure everyone had rooms in working order, she hadn’t exactly had any face time with Pike. Pike was supposed to be helping out with the bake sale to raise money for the temple’s infirmary, so there was work to be done with that. But more importantly, she just wanted to talk to Pike. 

Figuring it was late enough, Vex decided to just wake Pike up. Vex had rather lost track of what was a late morning over the years. She was a mother and a guardian of a forest now; early mornings were her thing. 

As soon as she opened the door to Pike’s room, Vex had to look twice to be sure she was seeing what she was seeing. She was immediately flooded with a deep, deep feeling of ecstatic vindication that even as it began to bloom was already fulfilling a decade and a half’s need to be right. 

There in the bed, with the sunrise streaming down on them, with the blankets pulled up high, looking like the picture of angelic peacefulness when she knew for certain they were definitely not angelic nor rarely peace-loving, were Pike and Scanlan, spooning in bed. She had thought they might possibly get together at so many times in the past that she had almost forgotten about the possibility. There was no one else around to see, and no one who’d be as scandalized or interested to tell. It was delightful. It was infuriating. It was somehow both the last possible and first possible thing anyone could expect. 

All she could do was scream. So she did. 

The gnomes bolted up in bed--Pike’s hair unravelling from braids and Scanlan’s sticking almost straight up. 

“Oh no,” Scanlan said. 

Vex jumped on the foot of the bed and punched it several times in disbelief, causing the gnomes to pull the blanket around themselves as a protective barrier. Vex couldn’t really stop her shrieks of amazement. 

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for this?” She yelled. “Have you any idea how long I’ve struggled with being right in secret?” 

Scanlan eyed her warily, while Pike--right next to each other! in bed! naked!-- just looked concerned. 

“Incontrovertible proof!” Vex shouted, pointing frantically between them and the bed. “You’re fucking! You’re fucking! I knew it! I always knew it! I always knew one day you would fuck and you have and it’s here and I’m right and I always have been!” 

Pike smiled a bit tiredly. “I’m happy for you, Vex.” 

“Oh, my god, Pike! Scanlan! Oh my god, I’m so happy for you! I am so, so happy for you. I’m happy to be right, and to be vindicated, but I’m also happy you’ve finally admitted your feelings for each other and decided to act on it.” 

After a beat of awkward silence, a horrid realization came to Vex. “Oh no. Was it just… Was it just sex? Did you just crack after sixteen years of sexual tension? And now I’m ruining things by talking about it? No, it can’t be. Oh no, am I making it worse?” 

Scanlan sighed, looked her in the eye, and nodded solemnly. “I’m ashamed to admit it, Vex, but I reneged on my vow to respect Pike’s feelings. As we were drinking last night with our friends, I was overcome with lust by the way she laughed at Grog falling off his barstool and accidentally got beer up her nose. I took advantage of her lowered inhibitions and seduced her with my charismatic wiles. What you see now is a scene of debauchery and regret and ruined friendship.” 

Vex halted completely, very dissatisfied that she was only sixty percent sure he was fucking with her. 

“Scanlan,” Pike chided, rolling her eyes. 

Vex frowned and slapped at the bed where she though his feet might be. “Damn it, Scanlan!” 

“Why does everyone always yell at me when I’m naked? I’m very vulnerable right now.” 

“Well, wait,” Vex said, feeling her hope rising up again. “Are you… getting together then?” 

“Yeah,” Scanlan said abruptly. “Yep. That’s true. You’re right. Whoo!” 

Pike bit her lip and looked at Scanlan and then back to Vex. “We’ve been together for eight months. I’m sorry, I can’t lie to Vex.” 

“Eight months?” Vex spat. 

Scanlan held his hands up over his face. “Hey, don’t blame me. I was just asleep a minute ago and I wanted to lie and you never would’ve known otherwise.” 

“Those are the opposite of reasons why I shouldn’t blame you!” Vex pounded the mattress again and even Pike pulled back a little. “Eight months!” 

“To be fair,” Pike said in her calm-down voice, “it was a very personal journey.” 

“We didn’t want to upset the group,” Scanlan added. 

Pike nodded in agreement. “We’re very private about things like that.” 

“I’ve seen both of you naked so many times,” Vex said, feeling her elation about being right was being ruined a little bit. “Pike always sleeps naked. I’ve seen Pike naked and also with a gaping chest wound. I’ve seen Scanlan naked eating chicken. I’ve seen multiple Scanlan portraits of Scanlan naked. You are both naked under that blanket right now.”

“We’re private about emotions,” Pike said. “Not so much nudity.”

“Yes. There were so many emotions, which are disgusting. And beautiful and not for public consumption.” Scanlan snapped his fingers and pointed at Vex. “And also you got secretly married! You can’t be mad. That’s illogical.”

Vex eyed him sharply for a second, but she couldn’t maintain any disapproval. She bounced on the mattress again. “Okay, okay, you’ve got to tell me everything, though. How did it start? Why did it start now? When were you going to tell everyone? What--”

Vex was cut off by Percy’s voice and footsteps coming up no the door. 

“Pike? Vex? What’s all this yelling about? Is everyone--” Percy came into the doorway, where his look of concern immediately switched to shock. “Oh dear god. Oh no.” 

“Percy,” Vex called out. “I was right, Percy! You owe me fifty gold! You may not remember. I think we made that bet fourteen years ago, but I won! They’re fucking!” 

Percy looked between Pike and Scanlan with a slight tinge of horror to his mein, sighed, and turned back down the hallway without a word. 

Scanlan scoffed and shook his head. “Is anyone going to shut the damn door? Unbelievable.” With a flick of his wrist, a small spectral hand appeared and floated to the door to grasp the handle. “Also please get out,” he added to Vex. 

Pike smiled, but said, “I promise I will tell you everything later, we both will, but… yeah.” 

Vex scooted off the bed, but leaned over to grab and kiss both their heads, which they only mildly objected to, before leaving. 

She knew she should probably let Pike and Scanlan tell everyone the news, but she was definitely going to tell everyone as soon as she saw them to make sure they knew she’d been right all along. Also that there were no expiration dates on bets.

**Author's Note:**

> ~*~
> 
>  
> 
> hello again, i hope you enjoyed this sprawling self indulgent testament to how much i can vomit feels and put off writing my other fics. if you want more of things like this, check out jabletown.tumblr.com where i regularly scream about this topic. 
> 
> thank you so much to tameila beta-ing this fic for me and helping me along the way. i wrote a lot more after her authorization signed off, so sorry about that. you're a doll, you're a gem, you're a star. thanks to everyone in the scanclave who encouraged this. muah. 
> 
> if you liked please kudos or comment (or both!) so i can feel validated, which is the only feeling i like to feel. 
> 
> also, 10/03 update! check out this sweet [fanart of bertram ployapedis and lin fairhand by acecasinova](http://jabletown.tumblr.com/post/166026107843/acecasinova-aaaand-inktober-1-and-2-portraits)


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